


Fate's Favor

by aretia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angels of Death, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-08-05 18:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16373108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aretia/pseuds/aretia
Summary: Kolivan, an angel of death, spares the life of a prince and falls in love with him, sending them both down a dark path.





	1. Noble Aspirations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arka_r](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arka_r/gifts).



> Happy birthday Arka!!
> 
> I'm sorry this is a little rushed, and not finished. I'll post the rest of the chapters soon!

White fog followed Kolivan wherever they went. It settled over the four-poster bed like a heavy blanket as they stepped into the prince’s room. They used it to conjure a dreamscape of a misty forest, to protect the mortal from dying of shock the instant he laid eyes on them, before waking Zarkon. 

The Galra prince sat up and opened his eyes, red pupils flitting around, observing the unfamiliar surroundings. “Where am I?” he wondered out loud. 

“You are home,” Kolivan replied from where they hid in the mist beside a tree. “Your Highness.” They added the title even though they had no reason to show fealty to mortal Galra royalty. They had been mortal once, hadn’t they? 

“This isn’t my home. I don’t recognize this place,” said Zarkon, his voice growing unsteady with fear. “And I don’t know you. Who are you?”

“Please, do not be afraid,” said Kolivan, stepping closer and emerging from the mist. Their hood and the glowing eyes of their mask still made them look unsettling, but at least they were no longer a black shadow lurking among the trees. They held out one hand, longing to place it on Zarkon’s shoulder in reassurance, but any touch from an angel of death would kill a mortal. Kolivan’s other hand shifted behind their robes to hide their blade.

“ _Swing the blade,_ ” the voice of their master, the god of death, hissed in their ear. Kolivan shook the voice away, their ear tufts twitching under their hood. Macidus’s methods had always been too _aggressive_ for Kolivan’s tastes, not to mention that he spied on Kolivan’s missions and didn’t trust them to do their job.

Unfortunately, Zarkon noticed the movement of Kolivan’s hand when they hesitated at Macidus’s voice, and his eyes caught a glimpse of the glowing edge of Kolivan’s blade. “You’re an assassin,” Zarkon accused, and he tried to climb out of the bed and flee, but found that he was frozen in place. His yellow eyes were wide with terror.

“Not in the sense you are thinking,” Kolivan said. “You are ill, Zarkon. I am here to take you to a place where you won’t suffer anymore.”

“So… you are Death itself?” Zarkon asked.

“ _Death’s apprentice!_ ” Macidus screeched, even though Zarkon couldn’t hear him. He did not appreciate Kolivan receiving credit for his work. Not that Kolivan would want it. They did not see the point of killing the innocent prince, even if he had contracted a terminal disease that was becoming increasingly common among the Galra. If Kolivan was bound to carry out the bidding of the god of death, then they would at least make sure to place the blame where it belonged. 

“I am Kolivan, an angel of death, yes,” Kolivan admitted. “I was sent here by the god of death to take you to another chapter in your life.”

“You can’t,” Zarkon said desperately, holding up his hands.

“Your naivety is endearing, Prince Zarkon,” Kolivan said. “I know that as a prince you are used to getting everything you ask for. But you cannot refuse death. No one can.”

“This is not about my status,” Zarkon insisted. “I am not asking you to spare me just because I am the only heir to the Galra throne. I am pleading with you because I know what is causing this illness to spread. I have researched it, and I know how to stop it. Please, let me go so that I may save my people.”

Kolivan couldn’t deny the flutter in their chest at Zarkon’s idealism. It reminded them of some trace of their mortal past that was locked deep within their memories. It really wasn’t worth betraying Macidus’s orders, but Kolivan felt admiration and _fondness_ for the prince that they hadn’t felt since their death. “…Very well,” Kolivan said.

“Really?” said Zarkon, and his face lit up in a hopeful smile that twisted Kolivan’s emotions into a knot. A dark impulse in the back of their mind wanted to take Zarkon for their own, but he belonged in the living world. 

“I will heal you,” Kolivan said. “You will have one chance to stop the epidemic, and then I will return for you.”

They drew their blade, and Zarkon flinched, but instead of pointing it at Zarkon, they took it in their own hand instead. Holding the sharp end of the blade against their palm, Kolivan didn’t bleed, but they did feel the stinging pain of metal digging into flesh as if they still had a physical body. Once they cut their palm, the gem on the hilt of the blade glowed, and a rush of purple sparkles swirled over the bed to Zarkon. Zarkon’s eyes glowed purple for a moment, then returned to normal after he blinked. 

“We will meet again soon,” Kolivan said, and with a swish of their robes they disappeared into the mist, taking the forest along with them.

~

Zarkon woke up in his bed. He blinked his eyes wearily. He couldn’t shake the strange dream he’d had from his mind, or the haunting dark figure that had appeared to him. Either way, he knew it had to be his imagination. He had dreams every night about miraculously recovering from his illness, but every day reality came crashing back down on him again.

Zarkon lifted his hand, and flexed his fingers. It didn’t hurt. Experimentally, Zarkon pushed himself up into a sitting position. His arms were strong enough to support him now, and his head didn’t spin with dizziness and fog like it did whenever he moved from a supine position. Zarkon’s heart was stuttering with excitement as he turned to place his feet on the floor, and for the first time in months, stood up. 

This time, the dream had been real. 

Zarkon walked over to open the door to his bedroom. Standing outside was the servant who brought him his breakfast, who almost dropped their tray in surprise. “Prince Zarkon! You should be in bed resting—”

“I have been resting,” said Zarkon. “I feel much better now.”

~

Kolivan could hear Macidus shrieking at them the entire way back, so when they returned to the astral plane, the lecture was no surprise.

“You let him go?” Macidus demanded.

“He had noble aspirations. I thought he deserved a chance to see them through,” Kolivan said firmly.

“You know what this disease is. If he knows what he says he does, you’ve essentially given him permission to walk right up to our front door,” Macidus growled. “Besides, your job is to _bring_ death, not to prevent it.”

“We are not bloodthirsty murderers. We are guardians who guide souls into the afterlife,” Kolivan seethed. “We are not supposed to seek unnecessary death.”

“You sound like a mortal with your filthy idealism,” Macidus spat. “You will kill Zarkon, or you will pay for your insolence.”

Kolivan thought again of Zarkon’s smile, and how it was worth any punishment to protect it. “Yes, Master. I will.”


	2. At the Gates

Somewhere, the gate between the realm of the dead and the mortal plane was open just a sliver, allowing the plague to seep out and infect. Kolivan watched Zarkon search for the gate, admiring him from afar. They ached to comfort Zarkon when his mother succumbed to the disease. They saw his gentle smile return when he was crowned Emperor of the Galra, and he greeted the people he was fighting to save. Every time Kolivan looked at Zarkon, they felt a whirlwind of emotions that echoed their mortal past, as if they really had a heart that pounded and a stomach that twisted at the sight of him.

Macidus noticed that Kolivan was becoming distracted from their duties, following Zarkon and guiding him rather than reaping innocent souls. He forbade Kolivan from helping Zarkon in his quest, putting distance between them again, but that only made Kolivan’s longing for him grow.

Kolivan hoped that Zarkon would succeed in his quest, if only so that they would share the same space again. They knew it was a selfish hope. The right thing to do would be to hope that he would give up, so that Kolivan would not have to face him again and take his life. Even if they never saw him again, they ought to be content to know that he lived a long and happy life without them.

They were unprepared when Zarkon arrived at the gates. 

Zarkon had made it to the bottom of the desert canyon, where a gate of death was set in the wall. Fog settled in the canyon and eliminated almost all visibility, but it was easy to find the gate by heading into the strong gust of foul-smelling wind. Zarkon, already weakened from the grueling descent, threw his body against the door. The wind pressed back against him with more strength than any mortal possessed, but Zarkon was able to angle his body so that he could just barely shove the door closed. The air in the canyon was still, but the heavy fog choked his breath. He had been exposed to a lethal dose of the plague, and he could feel the all too familiar weight sinking into his bones. 

Footsteps approaching him put his senses on alert, and he mustered the strength to remain standing. Then, he saw Kolivan emerging from the mist, wearing the same three-eyed mask as when they had first met.

Zarkon recognized them instantly. “It’s you,” he gasped. “You’re the one who saved me.”

“Yes,” Kolivan confirmed. “I see that you have succeeded in your mission. Thanks to you, the Galra will no longer be plagued by this illness.”

“And now I will die for it,” Zarkon said.

“That was the agreement, yes,” Kolivan said, even though all it would take would be Zarkon’s word for them to change it. 

“May I at least see the face of the person who is about to kill me?” Zarkon pleaded. 

Kolivan had never been one to refuse a last wish, especially not of the mortal who had captivated them for so long. They brought their hand to their face and removed their mask.

Zarkon let out a soft gasp, and his eyes lingered on Kolivan for several moments too long. His awed expression sent an uncomfortable shiver through Kolivan’s soul. 

“You’re breathtaking,” Zarkon whispered. 

Kolivan cleared their throat, desperately grasping for focus. “Flattery won’t save you from what is coming,” they said. 

“I know,” Zarkon replied. “But if this is the end of my life, I am just glad that the last thing I see will be you.” 

Everything Kolivan wanted was within their reach, and it seemed that Zarkon wanted it too. All they had to do was take it. 

“It is time to come with me,” Kolivan said, holding out their hand. “Are you ready to sacrifice your life in exchange for those of your subjects?” 

Zarkon closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Then, Zarkon’s eyes blinked back open, and he said, without hesitation, “Yes.”

With a sigh, Kolivan drew the blade from their hip and lifted it up, holding the edge to Zarkon’s throat.

Zarkon’s gaze meeting Kolivan’s was unwavering. There was no fear in those eyes, nor desperate pleading. There was only resignation to his fate. A fate that Zarkon still didn’t deserve. 

Macidus would probably spout something about how a mortal coming this close to the gates of death was arrogance worthy of capital punishment. But to the Galra people, and to Kolivan, Zarkon was a hero. He deserved to return to his kingdom and lead them. Kolivan didn’t want to take him from them. 

Kolivan couldn’t bear to be the one who snuffed out such a brilliant light, who took his bright smile and his shining hope from the world that he loved. 

“I can’t,” Kolivan said, their voice choked with a sob. Kolivan withdrew the blade and returned it to its holster.

A screech cut through the silence in the canyon. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Macidus’s voice preceded him, but then the god of death materialized out of the fog. “I have had enough of your defiance, Kolivan. End him now, or I will.” 

“I won’t let you touch him,” Kolivan growled, shielding Zarkon with their body. 

Macidus darted towards them at an invisible speed, and his blade clashed against Kolivan’s. When he tried to dodge around Kolivan to attack Zarkon, Kolivan found an opening to strike, and plunged their blade into Macidus’s chest. 

Macidus dropped to his knees, Kolivan’s blade buried to the hilt in his body and sticking out of his back. The expression in his eyes was one of betrayal, before a grin split across his cheeks like a livid gash, and an unnerving laugh rattled out of his throat. 

“You think you are protecting your precious mortal. But you have already destroyed his soul,” Macidus snarled. “Mortals are not meant to bear the burden of immortality. Just as angels of death are not meant to be crippled by mortal emotions.”

Macidus’s body dissolved into a cloud of black smoke. A tendril of that smoke made its way through the fog, curling towards Zarkon, and plunged into his mouth. Zarkon fell to the ground, shuddered violently, then lay still. 

“Zarkon!” Kolivan screamed. They turned around and fell to their knees beside Zarkon’s body.

Zarkon opened his eyes, and a wave of relief crashed through Kolivan. It subsided under a greater swell of uneasiness when they noticed that the yellow and red of Zarkon’s eyes had been replaced by a magenta glow. Kolivan had seen the same glow when they used death’s magic to heal Zarkon, except this time it didn’t fade. 

Kolivan reached out to Zarkon, and felt their hand repelled as if by a force field.

They had waited for so long to touch Zarkon, and resisted because such an indiscretion would kill him. But Macidus had done something to him in his last moment that had to be worse than death. Kolivan pressed their hands against the force field, and was thrown back against the sand. Zarkon stood up, brushing the dust from his armor. 

“Zarkon! Can you hear me?” Kolivan called out. At first, Zarkon’s expression looking back at them was one of confusion, and despair crept into Kolivan’s voice as they asked, “Do you remember me?”

Zarkon scowled. “I know who you are,” he said, his deep voice resonating with an otherworldly timbre. “But I do not need you. You would only stand in the way of my conquest. I do not listen to the call of death any longer.”

Kolivan tried to place their body in front of Zarkon’s, begging him to listen. Zarkon shoved past Kolivan, and marched back up the canyon path.


	3. Knowledge or Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Revasnaslan for helping me with the details of the action scene!

Once Zarkon had ended the plague and fulfilled his duty to the Galra people, he set his sights beyond his own home. He sought to lead the Galra Empire to conquer the universe. The bloodthirsty spirit of Macidus reigned within him, exploiting aliens and Galra alike. Had Macidus still been the god of death, he would have relished the carnage. As it was, Kolivan had taken his place, and they wept for every innocent soul they had to reap in the wake of Zarkon’s rampage. 

There was only one soul that Kolivan couldn’t take, and that was Zarkon himself. Macidus had cursed him with immortality as a punishment for Kolivan’s arrogance, permanently blocking Kolivan from touching him. Even if Kolivan could will themselves to kill Zarkon—which they could only do by telling themselves that the Zarkon they loved was gone, and he was only a shell possessed by Macidus—the curse would prevent them from laying a hand on him. Helpless to end the war, Kolivan trudged on, collecting the souls of Zarkon’s victims.

Until one of them offered Kolivan a way out.

Kolivan appeared inside Zarkon’s central command ship, in the midst of an explosion. They didn’t bother creating their usual illusions as they drifted to the center of the blast, to the wounded Galra who had sabotaged the power core. With a deep sigh, Kolivan drew their blade and poised it over the Galra’s throat, but hesitated when they saw their appearance.

The Galra was wearing a hooded robe with a sash and glowing marks on the chest, and a mask with three purple eyes. It was clearly modeled after Kolivan, but how could a living being know what they looked like? Curious, Kolivan withdrew their blade. “Wake up,” they commanded the mortal.

The Galra on the ground stirred, and looked up at Kolivan. “My Lord,” he whispered reverently. His mask dissolved, and he removed his hood, revealing pointed ears and a violet face deeply creased from years of worry.

“Who are you?” Kolivan asked.

“My name is Thace. I am the leader of the Blade of Marmora. We are an organization dedicated to overthrowing Zarkon’s empire—and to serving you,” Thace explained. “Hundreds of years ago, my ancestor, Marmora, was to be executed for her crimes against the Empire. You spared her life, and sent her back to the mortal realm to continue her mission. Since then, every member of our order has pledged their lives to you—that is why we even model our armor after you, and our blades.” Thace held up his hand, holding a luxite blade with a luminescent purple line along its edge. “It is an honor to finally meet you, even if it means that my mission has come to an end.”

Kolivan had spared far too many mortals since the beginning of Zarkon’s brutal reign to remember if Thace’s story about his ancestor was true. Still, they recognized Thace’s loyalty, and realized that they could help each other reach their shared desires. “You are the leader of this organization?” Kolivan asked. 

“Yes,” said Thace. “I was recently appointed, but—yes, I am.”

“May I ask you a favor?” said Kolivan.

“Of course, My Lord,” said Thace. “I would do anything for you.”

“You may call me Kolivan,” Kolivan said, as the overly formal address was making them increasingly uncomfortable. “I need you and your order to help me assassinate Zarkon.”

“With all due respect, My Lord—er, Kolivan, that is what we have been trying to do for centuries,” Thace protested. 

“I know, and I admire your efforts,” said Kolivan. “But this time, I will give you the power to succeed. I will restore your life, so that you may go back to the Blade of Marmora and tell them my orders. I will enchant your blades with death’s magic so that you may sever Zarkon’s soul from his body with one strike. I will guard you all the way to Zarkon’s chambers, but once you are there, you must be the ones to deal the final blow.”

“I will gather my most trusted agents for this mission. We will not let you down,” said Thace. 

Kolivan began the ritual to bring him back to life, drawing their blade across their own palm. Every time they restored a mortal’s life, it drained their power, and Kolivan felt themselves growing weaker as the purple sparkles erupted over Thace and stitched up his wounds. As the god of death, they could not fade from existence, but the more their powers waned, the more desperate they became. If they were wrong about the curse, and Zarkon was not only impervious to death by Kolivan’s hands but by mortal hands as well, they did not know what choice they had left other than to give up.

“Thank you,” said Thace, standing up, admiring his healed body. “But I must ask you… if you are the god of death, why do you need our help to kill Zarkon?”

Kolivan’s shoulders drooped, a subtle reflection of the wave of sorrow that overcame them. “Because I loved him,” Kolivan said. “I cannot bear to do it myself.”

~

Thace, along with his second-in-command, Antok, and infiltration expert Ulaz, waited outside Zarkon’s throne room, preparing for their ambush. As they had promised, Kolivan had protected them from the guards on their way there, but now they had disappeared, leaving the Blades on their own.

Thace waited inside the air vent in the ceiling above Zarkon’s throne. He turned on the communicator inside his mask, and whispered, “We are in position. On your signal, Ulaz.”

Ulaz had taken on the disguise of a Galra commander who was scheduled to give a report to Zarkon about the progress of the war. He opened the chamber doors and wheeled in a cart bearing a holo-projector. Zarkon usually stayed seated during these meetings, so Ulaz’s task was to distract him while Antok approached him from the service entrance in the back and Thace from the air vents above.

“Your Majesty, I have great news from the Sylvythian front,” said Ulaz.

“It is a pleasure to see you again,” Zarkon’s deep voice resonated throughout the room, dripping with malice. “Kolivan.”

Ulaz flinched as Zarkon stood up and strode toward him, drawing a sword from his cloak. The blade extended into a long chain and lashed out, striking the wall behind Ulaz as he narrowly ducked underneath it. 

“The mission has been compromised. Ulaz, fall back and wait for backup,” Thace ordered. 

“New plan,” Ulaz’s voice growled back to him through the communicator in Thace’s ear. Ulaz used the cart to shield himself from one of Zarkon’s blows, then threw it to the side and charged toward him. Once Thace realized that Ulaz wasn’t backing down, he and Antok raced to back him up, but they were too late. Ulaz leapt forward and lunged at Zarkon, but Zarkon threw him to the ground and plunged the tip of his sword through Ulaz’s chest. 

Once he had removed his sword from Ulaz’s body, Zarkon looked up to see Antok’s blade swinging towards him. Zarkon dodged his blow and raised his sword to block it, backing up against the throne. Then, Thace launched himself from the air vent, throwing his blade as he fell, and it sliced through Zarkon’s throat. Zarkon dropped his weapon, hands reaching up to pull the blade from his throat, but the magenta glow in his eyes was already fading. He collapsed on the ground, his eyes black and lifeless. 

Antok stayed guard over Zarkon’s body in case he revived, while Thace ran to Ulaz’s side. “Ulaz! I am so sorry,” Thace cried, pulling Ulaz’s limp body into his arms.

Kolivan materialized then out of a cloud of black smoke. “Kolivan!” Thace called out. He laid Ulaz back on the floor in a position of repose, and dashed over to Kolivan. “Somehow, he knew that you were behind this. We failed to catch him by surprise, and we lost Ulaz…”

Thace seemed to realize that his words were falling on deaf ears. Kolivan could only pay attention to one thing at that moment, and that was Zarkon. Thace and Antok stepped aside, and Kolivan rushed over to Zarkon and kneeled beside him.

“My dear Zarkon, I am sorry,” said Kolivan, voice breaking as they kneeled beside Zarkon and placed their hands over Zarkon’s body. “It was my foolishness that led us to this fate.” 

Kolivan feared that Macidus’s curse had destroyed Zarkon’s soul slowly from the inside, and now there was nothing left but the empty shell. If that was true, then Kolivan had fallen even deeper into Macidus’s trap, destroying the only thing left of the one they loved.

They lay down next to Zarkon under the crook of his arm, draping their arm over his waist and reaching out to entwine their fingers with his. 

“I’m sorry, Zarkon,” Kolivan cried. “I love you.”

Ever so slightly, they felt Zarkon’s fingers curling up into theirs.

“Zarkon!” Kolivan called out to him, grasping Zarkon’s hands and pulling him towards them, their soul intermingling with his. Then, they felt Macidus thrashing against the inside of their mind. 

_No! I won’t let you tear us apart! Zarkon and I will live on forever!_ Macidus screeched.

“Zarkon is not yours. He is _mine_ ,” Kolivan snarled. “And I will never let you hurt him again.”

 _Too late for that, Kolivan,_ came Macidus’s sneer. With their souls woven together, Kolivan felt Macidus sink his claws into Zarkon’s mind, and screamed out in agony as the memories of Zarkon’s tyranny flashed by in gruesome detail. Black smoke poured out of Zarkon’s eyes, condensing in a cloud above his head.

“Get away from him!” Kolivan roared. They swung their blade though the cloud of smoke, severing Macidus’s tie to Zarkon. His final shriek echoed in Kolivan’s ears until it finally faded, and the particles of smoke dissipated from the air. 

Kolivan looked down at their lap. Above Zarkon’s corpse, the translucent form of his spirit lay in Kolivan’s arms, groaning. “Zarkon?” Kolivan murmured, running their finger along his cheek.

Zarkon’s eyes snapped open, and Kolivan was relieved to see that the familiar red and yellow had returned. It broke their heart to see the pain and regret in those eyes. But when Zarkon’s eyes met with Kolivan’s, his expression softened, and then he started to cry. “I am so sorry, Kolivan…” Zarkon sobbed, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Kolivan’s hand cradled the side of Zarkon’s face and wiped away the tears. “It wasn’t your fault, Zarkon. You were possessed by Macidus, the god of death, after I killed him. He committed all those atrocities, not you. He cursed you as a punishment to me for refusing to take your life, so it is my fault. I am sorry, Zarkon.”

“I never should have been so arrogant as to question death. I must take responsibility for this,” Zarkon insisted.

“I do not regret the decision I made back then,” said Kolivan. “I could not take your life. You are too precious to me.” Kolivan glanced away from Zarkon as they said that, too overwhelmed with emotion to look at him. 

“I am?” Zarkon asked, staring up at Kolivan with wide eyes. 

They leaned down and touched their forehead to Zarkon’s. “Yes, Zarkon,” they said. 

Zarkon tilted his head up and closed the distance, pressing his lips against Kolivan’s. A blaze of heat ignited inside Kolivan like they hadn’t felt since they had been on the living plane themselves. They wanted to bask in this moment with Zarkon forever—and they _would_ —but there was one thing they still owed to the people who had helped them. 

Kolivan glanced over at Thace and Antok, who cradled the body of their fallen comrade in their arms. “None of us went into this mission believing we would make it out alive,” said Thace, tears prickling in his eyes, sobs choking his voice. “But losing one of us is almost worse than losing all of us.” Antok squeezed Thace’s hand as Thace traced his fingers along Ulaz’s expressionless face.

Kolivan appeared next to Thace, Zarkon following beside them. “Ulaz. I am sorry I couldn’t protect you,” Kolivan said. They reached out their hand to where Ulaz’s hands were folded across his chest, and lifted Ulaz’s spirit out of his body. Ulaz sat up and blinked, disoriented, before he looked to Kolivan for guidance. 

“Ulaz, I have a favor to ask you,” said Kolivan. “I wish to go with Zarkon into the mortal afterlife. It’s selfish of me, I know, but I would need someone to be my successor as the god of death. I want it to be you, Ulaz. If you choose not to, I would restore your life, in exchange for your service to me. But if you choose to accept my passing on this duty, there would be no greater honor.”

“I would be honored to carry on your legacy,” said Ulaz, bowing his head. 

“Thank you, Ulaz.” Kolivan handed Ulaz their mask and blade. When Ulaz put the mask on, his spirit took on a more solid quality, and once the blade passed into his hand from Kolivan’s, Kolivan turned transparent. They had returned to their original state as a mortal spirit. 

Suddenly, Kolivan fell back against Zarkon’s chest and shuddered. “Kolivan! What’s wrong?” said Zarkon.

“My memories from before my death have returned,” Kolivan gasped. “I know why Macidus chose me as his successor. Long before the Galra Empire united our planet, I was the leader of a tribe that was under siege by a more powerful one. I refused to surrender, and when I died, Macidus told me that my rebellion had cost so many more lives than surrendering would have, that I was meant to be an angel of death. He has always been punishing me for my defiance.”

“Your people sacrificed their lives, but not their dignity,” Zarkon said, running his hand over Kolivan’s head to stroke their ears. “You are a hero, Kolivan.”

“So are you, Zarkon,” Kolivan replied. “That was what drew me to you. You reminded me of myself as a mortal, even though I didn’t know it yet.” They turned to Ulaz. “I no longer wish for passing on the title of god of death to be a punishment. It should be a choice. Is this what you truly want, Ulaz?”

“Absolutely,” said Ulaz. Kolivan could almost see his ears perking up excitedly under his hood. “I will usher in an era of peace from beyond the veil, as Thace and Antok will from the mortal realm.”

“Thank you. All of you,” said Kolivan, glancing over at Thace and Antok. “You will forever have my gratitude.”

“Likewise,” said Ulaz. He stood up, testing out his new, more powerful spirit form. He twirled his blade in his hand. “May I show my gratitude to you by leading you to your eternal rest?”

“Yes. If you please,” said Kolivan, smiling. Ulaz was taking to his role much more easily than Kolivan had when they were first turned into an angel of death, and Kolivan was confident that he would be able to handle the task even without their help. Maybe the fact that he came from a death-worshipping cult had something to do with it.

While Kolivan and Zarkon prepared to cross over, Ulaz said his tearful goodbyes to Thace and Antok. Antok, overwhelmed with emotion, pulled Thace into a tight embrace, his tail thrashing back and forth. They wanted to hug Ulaz too, but now that he was the god of death and his touch would kill them, he exchanged respectful bows with each of them instead. Thace wiped tears from his eyes and smiled as he waved goodbye to Ulaz, still leaning against Antok’s side. 

Kolivan slipped their arms underneath Zarkon and lifted him as they stood up. They were weightless spirits, but Zarkon still looked startled that Kolivan was able to carry him. Kolivan found his awed expression endearing, and leaned their head down to nuzzle Zarkon’s face. 

Ulaz slashed his blade through the air, creating a portal into the realm of the dead. Kolivan stepped through it, carrying Zarkon in their arms, and Ulaz sealed the portal behind them. The warm glow engulfed them, and for the first time, Kolivan felt as though they were drifting into a peaceful sleep, wrapped in Zarkon’s arms. It was everything they had ever wanted.


End file.
